


Their Song, Unsung

by MythosMeta



Category: Masquerada: Songs and Shadows (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 06:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18772762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythosMeta/pseuds/MythosMeta
Summary: not very serious little marinspettore thing. maybe a bit ooc, ive been editing this thing for ages lol and kinda forgot most of the actual events of the game. oh well i like it hope u have fun





	Their Song, Unsung

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: IM SO SORRY GUYS I FORGOT 8 PAGES IN A SEPARATE DOC...... here it is jfal;sdkfj

Kalden gasped for breath - as quietly as he could manage. He'd held it straight through the song, unwilling to interrupt Cicero's voice with something as trivial as the transport of air to his working chest. It's sudden levity matched the resulting lightness in his head. He was spared only a moment of rumination before the wave of emotions crested. Overcome by beauty, the next instant he found the subject of his adoration in his arms, plucked off the ground and pressed to his heart. 

The surging tide froze.

But Cicero was laughing.

The sound melted Kalden all over again, gave him the courage to forge on and spin them in a tight circle. This time they burst into laughter together. As the rush faded, Kalden gently returned Cicero to his feet. 

What started as a passing glance at his face trapped Kalden in his eyes. That smile was so bright. Cicero was glowing with enthusiasm and mirth like Kalden had never witnessed. Kalden was, as ever, drawn into his warmth, barely catching himself inches away. But Cicero's light only sharpened into a spark, powering the wheels in his mind. His eyes glazed over, flitting about Kalden's face, finally resting on his mouth. Almost... expectant. The ball was firmly on Kalden's turf once more. He could see the looming edge of the knife, every second another step towards the precipice of change. He cursed himself even as he hesitated, pulling Cicero close instead of facing their answers. 

Still, Cicero rose to the tips of his toes to hug him back. Kalden could have cried. He fought it down in favor of a reality check. This was enough of a display, especially for the Hall of Songs. They could talk things over at home. He paused at the thought of either the Astiguary or the Sailheart being home for the both of them, then shook his head at another banned line of questioning. Say something, he chastised himself.

Kalden rumbled into Cicero's neck, "That was so beautiful. You have quite a voice." Kalden felt Cicero's bashful chuckle at his collarbone. "I'm serious. Thank you, Cicero. I love it." 

Though evidently Cicero hadn't had enough teasing. "The song or my voice?" At least it was gentle. Kalden took his time replying.

"Both," he admitted earnestly.

That brought bashful Cicero back for an encore. "I..." he fumbled. "Well. You're welcome, Kal." 

And so Kalden's awareness reeled him back in, but compromised with his still-ecstatic heart, leaving his arm around Cicero's waist. 

"To the Astiguary?"

Now Cicero hesitated. "Actually... I'm afraid I'm not too keen on socializing right now. I'd like to go to the Sailheart - that is - if you want to." Cicero took a moment to lay a hand over the one just above his own hip and give it a comforting squeeze. 

It was times like these that prevented Kalden from entirely dismissing the idea that Cicero could read minds. He smiled.

"Of course. Whenever you like."

\---

Kalden was propped up on their bed with entirely too many pillows, blissful and sluggish with Cicero lounging on top of him. Kalden hesitated to disturb their still waters of peace, but as a healer and lover, duty called.

"You should put on a nightshirt."

Cicero hummed into his neck. "Take your own advice."

"You'll be too cold to get up in the morning."

A pair of hands ran down Kalden's flanks appreciatively. "Not with you here."

"I have to make breakfast, and you never get up on time."

With great effort, Cicero pushed himself up enough to make eye contact, expression carefully aghast. "And so I should be left to fend for myself, to wake chilled and alone? Adrift? Ashore?" He paused to dramatically drop his head back to Kalden's chest in defeat. "Am I not the very wind in your sails?"

He felt Kalden's amusement rumble straight into his ear, a hand brushing through his hair placatingly. "You're right. A ship can't leave harbor without a strong breeze. And breakfast. I'll wake you, but you have to get up."

Cicero waved a hand in dismissal, narrowly avoiding smacking Kalden in the face. A face that was becoming less impressed by the second. "You're going to fall asleep again." Though, whether he was referring to passing out right now and forgetting the conversation or their plans for tomorrow was unclear. 

Cicero's deep breaths went uninterrupted. Kalden pressed on. "You know I'm not above nor against carrying you." 

This cracked an eye open and teased out some mumbled, posturing protest. Who he was trying to save face for, Kalden couldn't say. Their enthusiastic embraces that day in the Hall of Songs remained a precious, oft-visited memory in his own mind. 

The thoughtless petting stopped and turned into a disciplinary hug, Kalden pulling him up until they were face to face again. "If Tiziana was here, she'd flay me for spoiling you. You should enjoy it while you can." 

Cicero, giving up the ghost, put on his brightest "politicking" smile. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her." He pressed their foreheads together, clearly, Kalden would swear, attempting hypnotism with his big green eyes. "What say I help you cook in exchange?" Cicero faltered, sensing a weakness in his plot. "...I'll try." 

Kalden was charmed despite himself, reflecting a fraction of his smile. "Alright,” he relented. “We’ll go down the hall. But not the stairs, too dangerous." 

Cicero celebrated his marginal victory with a kiss, half-missing the lips he aimed for. Kalden gently corrected him and took the lead as the more experienced partner. Cicero let him. For now.

\---

Kalden had slipped out early to make breakfast, deciding to leave Cicero the table to set, partially honoring the agreement while saving himself the anxiety of herding him around a kitchen with knives and a stove and fire… and this line of thought was quickly growing dark. It was time to wake Cicero.

He opened the door to find him already sitting up on the bed, dressed - only in Kalden's shirt from last night. It engulfed the poor man nearly to his knees, the slits in the sides baring his outer thighs, collar threatening to slip from his slight shoulders. Cicero looked up from fiddling with the sleeves that completely hid his hands. He only looked more pleased as Kalden stared on and then scrambled to shut the door behind him.

"...Please tell me you're not finished dressing."

"Kal, you insisted. Night. Shirt."

"Cicero-"

"Kidding, kidding. Ages you’re a prude. I'll find some trousers for the sake of the children. But I'm keeping this on."

Kalden sighed and leaned back against the door, waiting for Cicero to retrieve a pair of pants, thankfully fresh and his own this time. 

“Kal,” Cicero started, with a voice he probably thought was coy but came out almost silly on him, “you’re still a big, strong man, aren’t you? Help a poor, newly-revived Inspettore cross the perilous cold of the hardwood?”

Kalden played along partially because the idea of some normal, mundane silliness appealed to him right now, but mostly because he wanted an excuse to pick him up again. It was easy and Kalden liked being reminded of all the commanding power in that small frame.

He swept him off his feet, shuffling out to the hall as quickly as he could manage without bumping Cicero's head or bare feet on anything. If Vint saw this, Kalden would never hear the end of it, he was sure. His cargo was unconcerned, delighted even, swinging his legs and resting his head on Kalden's shoulder to make the most of his short ride. He was set down before the stairs as promised, considerately on a rug. Cicero was just beginning to smell the carved fruits and sweetmeats down below and turned curiously to his escort.

"I did say I would help, right?"

"You can set the table."

Cicero's face scrunched in unsatisfied suspicion.

"I was... concerned." He tried to dodge, but his eyes betrayed him by glancing at the scarred palm.

The Inspettore caught him, of course. "Look at me, Kal."

The small hands, slipping out of his own sleeves to cup his face, brooked no argument. He looked.

"The consequences of my actions are on me. And I'm satisfied with the outcome. Truly. Better this bit of my skin than your treasures, your memories." 

Kalden gently grasped the rough-skinned hand on his face, drawing it to his mouth to kiss the palm. 

"You are one of my treasures as well. Never doubt that." He took a deep breath. "Still. I would feel better if you left the cooking to me."

Cicero huffed out a laugh. "Is that sympathy or a quip about my skills?"

"Whichever makes you feel better, of course. Come, the food has been out for some time and I've not even roused the children."

A few moments more of soft looks and dithering, and Cicero dashed down the stairs to fill plates, Kalden off to make the rounds.

\---

Kalden met Vint at the end of the hall downstairs. She was looking particularly smug, but Kalden’s residual good mood from being with Cicero night and day only improved at the sight. Her confidence always seemed to bolster his own. He decided to meet her teasing head-on. 

“Something I should know about?”

Her grin curled further at the edges, cat-like mischief all over her face, far from her usual modus operandi. Cicero had, predictably, brought with his residence a considerable amount of change. 

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Her gaze strayed to the dining room doorway. Kalden followed it to where snatches of Cicero appeared as he flitted about in that oversized shirt, handling business. “You two have been spending an awful lot of time together.”

Kalden had thought himself too old for runaway feelings, but found himself losing control in more ways than one when it came to Cicero. Even now the small paper fey fluttering in his stomach betrayed him. He felt his breath catch and face warm as he recalled the last few lazy weeks. Cicero the Hero of Ombre had plans the moment he awoke in the infirmary. The day the team spent celebrating their friend’s survival was also littered with manuscript and brainstorming; Cicero had demanded to see what everyone had come up with while he slept so he could contact officials, arrange meetings, set everything in motion as soon as possible to begin the great rebuilding of Ombre. They’d indulged his passion and ideas, but upon his collapse stepping out of the carriage for the third time that day, Kalden put his foot down. With the others having negligible accommodations and healing prowess, it was up to him to escort Cicero to the Sailheart. Of course, he opposed the coddling of his “mere flesh wound” the entire trip and for a whole day after, but gradually relaxed into the soft, affectionate man Kalden plucked out of bed this morning. Since then, neither had been eager to pick up the mantle of travel and diplomacy again just yet. Officially, Cicero was still on medical leave, though he wrestled with correspondence and drafts at Kalden’s desk every evening. They were floating in a void between eagerness to see the Citte finally prosper and less-than-eagerness to leave one another, their warm bed, and their children behind all day. Kalden paused to marvel at how naturally he had thought of sharing not only this home, but his children with Cicero. 

His introspection halted completely when Vint touched his shoulder and caught his eyes again, her playful demeanor having disappeared watching the play of emotions across his face. He only just realized he’d forgotten to reply to her simple observation. 

This smile was exceedingly gentle. “You’re serious about him, huh? Like Jaxus? I’m not accusing or complaining, really. He’s kind, clever… ‘scuse my language, but Ombre’s damned Hero.” She leaned in closer and nudged his arm with her own. “Quite a catch.”

Kalden chuckled. “Don’t know how I managed it.” He thought back to Cicero leading him by the nose through the investigation, the man’s authoritative voice echoing through the Seimora’s meeting room, the beauty and power of his step sequence and the flash of his rapier in battle, the wind whipping at his command as he rushed monstrous giants despite his diminutive form.

“Well don’t go saying that! You’re the one who got him this far. I’m sure he’d wax poetic about your heart again if you’d give him the chance. But that’s not like you,” she added quietly, partly to herself. Her face was thoughtful at first, and slowly began to harden with a familiar determination. “Don’t worry, Kal. I’ll ask him how he feels.” Kalden’s inability to dig himself out of his self-deprecating thoughts pushed her to turn on her heel and march towards the kitchen.

At the sight of her retreating back, Kalden snapped to attention. “Tides,” he cursed himself for puttering about in his mind and worrying his daughter, who was about to worry his lover with Kalden’s foolishness. 

The order of the kitchen and table had finally begun to satisfy Cicero when he turned for the doorway and almost ran right into Vint. He startled, but no harm was done, so he looked up into her face to bid her good morning when she cut in, all business.

“Cicero. What do you think of Kal?”

Cicero’s head tilted ever so slightly left as he considered her question. Luckily, he caught sight of Kalden approaching over her shoulder and put off the investigation of the bold and oddly-timed question to acknowledge him. 

“Kal!” He looked more anxious the closer he came. “Is something wrong?”

Kalden froze suspiciously just outside the kitchen, but thought to use the other children beginning to file in around him as another chance to stall. 

“Not wrong… perhaps we could talk after breakfast?” 

He and Vint considered Kal, and then each other, finally taking their seats with everyone to eat. The chatter around the table was subdued, like the children could sense the tension among their caretakers, but the stream of small talk remained steady enough to prevent the room from sinking into uncomfortable silence. Cicero chimed in once in awhile despite the unbreakable stare from Vint and Kalden’s obvious avoidance. The three of them managed to survive the meal and herd the little ones into the backyard for a stretch, before retreating to the empty table to have the talk.

Vint opened her mouth to begin the interrogation again, but Kalden held out a hand to stop her. 

“I appreciate your concern, Vint, but I don’t want to force anything.” He retracted his hand to draw it across his other arm, tracing the tattoo under his sleeve. “I should be dealing with these things myself. You should be tending to the children, not an adult. Not your own father.”

Vint placed her hand over the one on his arm. “Where I should be is right here with you, Kalden. I want to help.” 

Kalden followed their connected arms up to her eyes, but glanced away quickly. “I’m supposed to be helping you.”

“You and Jaxus gave me, all of us, a home and a family.” She squeezed his hand reassuringly. “You saved me. I’m returning the favor.” 

Cicero saw his chance to interject, “As am I-” half-regretting spoiling the intimacy as he spoke, but too curious despite himself.

Watching the scene unfold had brought a tight smile to Cicero’s face. He had to reel in his besotted heart at Vint’s words that so reminded him of how much he owed the people in his life as well as those whose memories it was his duty to honor. He knew he couldn’t languish here in domestic bliss forever, but moments like these made him dearly wish he could accomplish all his work from home. Home. And the family under its roof was now his responsibility, too. He added his hand to the pile, ready to put his mind to comforting them. 

“So, please. What did all this have to do with me?”

A cat seemed to be holding Kalden’s tongue hostage after Vint’s speech. She took it upon herself to tell Cicero, “He’s been down on himself again.” She looked conflicted before trying to soften the subject by adding, “Stop being such a big damn hero, Inspettore. You’re casting quite a shadow.” 

Cicero, temporarily stunned, blinked at Kalden. “You… think you’re not good enough for _me?_ ”

Kalden flushed to the roots of his hair, pulling his arms off the table completely and resting his hands in his lap, staring down at them without a word.

Cicero abandoned his seat across from the pair to pull out the one on Kalden’s other side, angling sideways in the chair to face his whole body towards him, offering his full attention and asking for Kalden’s in return. He silently collected his thoughts until he was sure Kalden was looking at him.

“I’m not going to tell you how you should feel, Kal. But I want to understand and try to help however it is you are. Like you did for me, remember? First I need your insight, your trust.”

A substantial amount of boneless weight pressed up against his front made Cicero tense even as he inwardly rejoiced. He puffed out his chest in support and pride, bringing his arms up to secure limp hands around his neck, finally locking his own around Kalden’s wide back. He rubbed his cheek against the short beard contentedly, but alas his job was not yet done.

“This is good. Really good. I will need words, too, though. Preferably a full explanation.”

Kalden retracted his arms and leaned away, only to fix large hands upon Cicero’s hips, lifting him easily onto his lap and gently squeezing them together.

“You’re distracting me.”

“Is this not a ploy to distract me?” He sighed in mock-disappointment. “What does it take to get a little professionalism around here? Vint?”

To Cicero’s amusement, she took that as an invitation to stop spectating and make the hug a family affair. His muscles, however, were less thrilled to be supporting the upper body weight of two people taller than himself. This, coupled with his need to corner Kalden into a real conversation, prompted him to devise a quick getaway. If there was one thing he knew would send youths straight back to their rooms, it was parental mushiness. As much as he enjoyed her company, he knew Kalden was tired of showing weakness in front of his charges. The petty plan would do. And probably be funny. He wriggled out from Kalden’s hold to latch onto Vint exclusively. 

“I see where he gets his gentle affection,” he teased. “Such an attentive, dedicated daughter.”

She only chuckled in slight embarrassment. He had to kick it up a notch. Cicero rounded on Kalden again, winging it and laying it on as thick as he could.

“Your children are wonderful, Kal. I’m so lucky to be sharing them with you.” He tactfully let doubt color his features, slowly weighing down his smile. “That is what you want… isn’t it?”

Kalden’s face colored as well. Mostly red again. His mouth hung open just a bit, speechless. Perfect. Cicero leaned in close, their noses just brushing. 

He whispered, “Or should we have a few more of our own?” and hammed it up with a wink, hoping they would and wouldn’t catch on in equal measure.

His audience looked about ready to explode, blushing down to their gills. At last, Vint put a swift end to her surveillance, stuttering about checking on the children and bidding a hasty retreat.

Cicero stuck to the performance for as long as it took for her to close the back door before he burst into laughter, tears building in his eyes with the force of it. 

“Kal-Kalden,” he gasped, “you should have seen- _your face._ ” He was shaking now, and would have toppled from his perch had Kalden not took hold of his shoulders.

“Tides! I thought you were serious. Does that mean… you don’t…?”

Cicero regained enough use of his lungs to answer, “Mariner. Unless the Lady rebuilt my body with a few extra pieces. How did you expect me to provide you with more children?”

Hilariously, Kalden seemed stumped for a moment. “...I forgot.” He rushed to amend his statement as Cicero collapsed into fitful giggling again. “I mean- we’ve been so- There are already kids here and you were acting like-”

A chaste meeting of lips brought the outpour to a merciful stop. A significantly more involved one had them rising out of the chair, Cicero opting to stand on his feet for once, though it forced him to stretch up to keep them close. They stumbled back to the staircase together, trying to reach their room without letting go of one another or breaking anything. 

He belatedly responded between kisses, “You have a point... How do we know for sure? Some testing is in order, I believe…”

**Author's Note:**

> hey if ur one of like 5 ppl who was rly into this game when it came out. or if u just got here or whatever ur situation feel free to hmu @yourmajestysghost on tumblr
> 
> o also the nightshirt thing was inspired by a fanart but i saw it a million years ago so if u kno what im talking about go ahead and ill link if the artist is cool with it


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